Amaterasu - Black Fire
by BlindJesus
Summary: One day it might be all gone: his brother, his friends... himself. The darkness keeps creeping in; it's just black dots now, but soon there might be nothing at all. The doctor says he's not sure, but it is more than likely that by the time Itachi reaches the age of eighteen, he will be completely blind. He won't be able to save Sasuke from that evil man. If only he had some help...
1. Chapter 1

He asked again, "Who's it from?" but the nine-year old boy said nothing, only crumpling the paper in his hands. "Kisame, what are you doing?" He wasn't the kind of man to raise his voice, he expected to be heard no matter how quietly he spoke, but Mr. Hoshigaki began to shriek after taking the letter from his son. "What the Hell?" he asked, waving his free hand in the air, "Kisame were you just going to throw this away?" "What's wrong with you!" he screamed, tears running down his face, "It's from" he choked out a sob, "It's from your mother."

Kisame looked up, his pale white eyes giving nothing away, "So?"

Mr. Hoshigaki forced himself to breathe, thinking, _He was six, only six._ "Kisame" he said in a calmer tone, "Do you remember the bomb shelters?"

"Yes."

""What about the ration slips?"

"Yeah Dad, I remember." Kisame said with a turn of his head. "The smelly sleeping bags, the sirens, the lights going out, the dust—"

"Okay Smart Shark" Mr. Hoshigaki cut in before the boy could list more things off his fingers, "Do you remember Mom going to talk to Kakuzu's family?"

Kisame scuffed his sneaker against the wooden kitchen floor, "She said she'd be right back."

He nodded, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, "Yeah and then the roof caved in—"

"She lied!" Kisame shoved his father's hand away and glared up at him, "She said she would be right back." He took a shaky breath, his voice cracking, "She hugged me, and promised! Promised she'd come back in a minute!"

"Kisa" Mr. Hoshigaki said, trying to keep his voice soft, holding both his hands out in front of him, "She was sent to one of the hospitals, and she might have been there for a while, getting better."

"We could've helped her!" Kisame shot back, "You could've" tears filled the edges of his eyes, but the little boy swallowed hard, keeping them from falling. "You could've bought real good doctors."

"That's true" Mr. Hoshigaki said, hyper conscious of his own wet cheeks as his son continued to speak, dry-eyed.

"I could have kept her company." He hugged himself, fingers knotting themselves together. "Brushed her hair and gotten her food." He glanced up toward his father, with a hopeful sort of look, "Done her makeup. She always liked that."

"That's what the nurses are for." "And" Mr. Hoshigaki said laughing a little, "You don't wear makeup in the hospital Kisa."

Kisame stamped his foot, "Whatever! I just, I just could've been there." He reached out and snatched the letter from his father, holding it up to the light, "But she has her _new friend_." His father flinched when he heard the disgust in Kisame's words, the way he ground his teeth at the end of every sentence. "And she's been with him for _years._ She says she wrote us because she saw I won that swimming competition. Not because she missed us!"

"We don't know—"

"If she still loved us she would've come home!"

Mr. Hoshigaki felt a stab of fear in his chest then, in that place where he kept all his memories of his wife: her persimmon-scented lotion, her hand fitting into his, the way she jangled car keys, and the way she aways got the truth out of him. "We can't jump to conclusions." he said, swallowing hard.

Kisame's face was still screwed up tight, the set of his tiny jaw, hard and unmoving. "She said she'd be back in a minute." The little boy threw the letter to the floor, and was about to step on it but, Mr. Hoshigaki grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Kisame struggled, the muscles flexing underneath his purple shirt, "When she was dead she couldn't help it" his voice wasn't so loud, and he wasn't trying to yank his arm away, so Mr. Hoshigaki loosened his grip, bending down to pick up the paper, ready to have a long talk. "But" Kisame spat out, "she's alive. That makes her a liar." Before Mr. Hoshigaki could react Kisame had turned around and run out the door, pausing only to scream, "I liked her better when she was dead!"

Kisame didn't see the pine branches or the cobwebs caught in their needles as he ran, all he could see was his mother. He still managed to jump over rocks, and duck under the fallen oak tree that leaned over the path, but when he tried to look for the onion patch he'd found last year with Kakuzu, the moss-covered boulder that looked like a huge piece of broccoli, or even the pond he was running toward he just saw _her_ swaying black braids bound with pink and yellow beads.

He only realized he was at the pond when he stepped in it, cool water drenching his sneakers. He bent down, breaths coming fast, and yanked his shoes off, throwing them to the bank, before completely submerging himself. He floated down to the sandy bottom, watching as the tiny crabs and minnows swam away. _I'm underwater,_ he thought, wrapping his arms around himself, _I can't hear anything._ When he had to swim up for air, which didn't happen very often, because he was "Amazingly Fantastic" at holding his breath, he only stuck his nose and mouth above the surface, so he could keep out all the awful noise.

He ran his fingers through his black hair, pulling at the strands in frustration, _I hate her,_ he thought, _She left me,_ his chest started to feel tight, _She didn't even say sorry._ Finally, he coughed and a burst of air bubbles sparked and glimmered as they drifted around his head. He watched as a minnow sped toward a bubble, probably thinking it was food, and then slowly went away, little tail barely twisting.

 _I don't want to be like that fish._ He could taste the crab cakes his Mom made that he was too little to like when she was around.They didn't taste so good anymore as he thought about all the times she must have made them for that man.

 _I don't want to be sad._ He saw Sharky, his favorite toy, being lowered into the casket they'd had no body to put in.

 _I don't care if Dad wants to see her, I won't._ He heard the out of tune way she'd sing Happy Birthday while carrying in a blue cake.

 _She didn't need to take three years._ He felt the heat of the summer sun from all those days she'd sit by the pool, painting her nails, and gave him encouragement as he flailed in his floaties.

 _If she loved me she would've come back._ He felt the little fish swirling around his hips as he pressed his fists to his eyes, thinking, _She didn't even learn how to swim with me._

He started to laugh as he went toward the surface, pulling in big lungfuls of air as he giggled, "If" he said between laughs, "If she comes to see me swim, I'll throw her in the deep end!"


	2. Chapter 2

Madara's hands were around Sasuke's shoulders, cradling him as he asked "Why do we gotta move? Mommy and Daddy will get worried if we're not home when they come back."

But before Madara could say anything, a dry, wisp of a voice answered, "Mommy and Daddy are gone Sasu." Itachi walked over and looped his arms through Madara's so he too, could hold onto the boy, "They aren't coming back." The young man took a deep breath, somehow conjuring a smile for his little brother, "It's you and I now. And we have to live somewhere don't we?" Itachi bumped his head against Sasuke's, "They'd still want us to go to school, and have friends. Right?"

Sasuke nodded, just a bit, before pressing his face back into the crook of Madara's arm. "Right Sasuke?" Itachi asked again, pressing his cheek on top of his brother's head, "THey'd want us to be happy wouldn't they?"

Madara and Itachi shared a relieved look when they both heard the muffled, "Course." from Sasuke. Itachi, then, slowly unwrapped his arms and stepped back, shrugging at Madara, before turning toward the rest of the family in the room.

"Good job buddy." Madara whispered in his little nephew's ear, "We're all here for you two, don't worry." He felt the tiny nod again, and sighed, returning his attention to Itachi, who was now being pulled into a teary hug by Aunt Rin.

He'd missed the first few words she'd been saying, but Madara was sure it was something along the lines of, "So young, so young for this too happen. It's a tragedy, a real awful thing Ita darling." Or something like that anyway, since she'd been saying basically the same thing for the last week and a half.

"Thanks Auntie" Itachi said in that same dry, quiet voice, Madara wondered if he'd always been that soft-spoken or if it was just because of the situation. The last time he'd really seen Itachi was back when Sasuke was born, so that made it, seven… almost eight years. _Kid's a teenager now,_ he thought, watching the way Itachi moved from aunt to uncle, cousin to cousin, however the fuck they were related human, to the next, accepting condolences and, again, managing to smile sweetly at everyone.

His train of thought was broken by a whisper in his ear, "Can we live with you?" Sasuke asked, big black Uchiha eyes wide. "Itachi likes you."

"And you?" Madara asked, chucking the small boy beneath the chin, "What do you think of me?"

Sasuke scowled and stuck out his tongue, that earlier sadness seeming to have gone away, at least for the moment, "You're a good pillow."

"Honest" Madara said between chuckles, "I like that." "But" he said after a few seconds, of ruffling Sasuke's hair, "I travel too much for work. It wouldn't be a stable place for you and Itachi." "I can come visit though" he said hurriedly, seeing Sasuke begin to pout, "Visit, yeah visit a lot. A lot, a lot."

Thankfully, Sasuke smiled, and nodded, "Like for Christmas?"

Madara grinned, "Yeah and I'll put a bunch of coal in your stocking."

"Not if I put it in yours first."

He laughed again shaking his head, "Mischievous little thing aren't you?"

"Mmm Hmm." Sasuke said with a smile, before hopping off Madara's lap and running over to Obito who'd just come back from talking to some departing guests.

"Uncle Obi!" Sasuke yelled, running past Itachi and jumping into his uncle's waiting arms, "You're back!"

Obito smiled, tilting his head, "You know I only left for a few minutes. I had to say goodbye to the—"

"It felt like an hour" Sasuke cut in, looping his arms around Obito's neck,.

"Uh huh." he said, letting one arm go around his nephew's back, and another beneath his legs, as he picked him up, "But it's polite to say goodbye to your guests. They were Naruto's parents." Sasuke squirmed slightly until he got comfortable, and Obito suppressed a smile. He just leaned his cheek against Sasuke's spiky hair, that somehow, again, Rin hadn't managed to flatten, despite all the hair-gel she must've used. "Well anyways, I'm back. Have you been good?"

"Yeah" Sasuke said, wiggling his feet back and forth, "I was sitting with Uncle Maddie."

Obito let out a breath as he raised an eyebrow in Madara's direction. "That's nice. Was he comfy?"

Madara didn't respond to the look; instead he turned and began speaking to someone Obito didn't know, maybe a co-worker? "Yeah, but not as comfy as you."

"Aren't you sweet."

"Yes."

Before Obito could tell Sasuke how he hadn't exactly been asking a question, he heard someone clearing their throat. "Uncle?" the voice said, the small catch in it barely noticeable, "Ca, Could we talk for a minute?"

Itachi's hair was pulled back into that annoying ponytail, where only his, still growing in, bangs showed around his face. Obito sighed, before placing Sasuke on the floor, "Go talk to your Auntie would you? Itachi and I will be outside."∑

"Why can't I come?"

"Because" Obito said, giving the Kindergartener a swat on the butt, "We gotta go talk about boring grown up things." "Besides" he added, not missing the glare Itachi shot him, "Rin told me she has some Cookie Dough flavored Pochey just for you." And with that, the little boy was off, twisting around people's legs on his way to the kitchen. "He likes sweets almost as much as you do." Obito observed, rising from the floor. "Ready?" He asked, gesturing toward the patio door.

Itachi didn't nod, or speak, he just stepped forward into the yard, walking across the frost-covered grass, to the marble bench beneath the cherry tree, and Obito couldn't help but think of how much prettier this spot was in the spring and summer. The tree's shadow spreading out past the bench and the little koi pond, the bees buzzing around the blossom filled branches, and the nice contrast between the dark brown bark, and Itachi's pale arms as he'd writhe back and forth begging Obito to let him go. "Something on your mind sweetheart?" he asked, sitting down, and pulling is favorite nephew into his lap, "I'd think the choice would be obvious."

"Mrs. Uzumaki said—"

"But" Obito interrupted, putting a finger over Itachi's lips, "Minato and his wife already have a kid. You would be imposing." "And" he whispered, letting his other hand slide beneath Itachi's shirt, "good boys don't do that." He watched as his nephew's eyes flitted around the yard, going to the tool shed, then the ground covered in the cherry tree's fallen leaves, and then finally, as Obito knew they would, to his face. "Do they?" he asked, his hand curled around Itachi's hip.

"Umm" he said in a whisper, that catch there again, making Obito kiss the boy's temple, "No. No they don't."

"Then you should stay with someone without kids right?" Itachi nodded, lips soft against his. "That's what I thought." "Now" Obito said, pulling back from the kiss, and uncoiling his arms from about the boy's waist, "Who do you want to live with?"

He could see Itachi swallowing, the thin pale skin, doing nothing to cover the rippling muscles underneath, "You and Auntie Rin."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hoshigaki what the fuck happened to your hair?" A few of the other JV players looked over as they got ready for practice, helmets part way to heads, and shoulder pads bulky beneath jerseys, "You put too much Chlorine in your pool?"

Kisame just rolled his eyes and finished lacing his shoes, "I've got a salt water pool Gai."

"Fungal infection?"

"Nope just a life choice." Kisame glanced at himself in his locker mirror, tilting his head slightly, admiring the layered texture of the blue. "Individuality, you should try it sometime."

And before the older boy could say anything else, or God forbid try and make another joke, Kisame looked over at Kakuzu and the two made their way onto the football field. "Wondered what he'd say if he saw the plan for your teeth?"

Kisame snickered as his best friend jogged over to the coach, his little Team Manager's whistle jangling around his neck, "Kuzu? Really, I'd bite off his big ass nose before he said anything about these great pearly whites!" Kisame yelled with a huge grin, and his two thumbs pointing toward his mouth, "I'm shocked at how little faith you have in me."

Kakuzu didn't completely hide his smirk, as he yelled back, "I won't have any faith in you till you give me ten laps #34!"

Knowing better than to disobey him when he was in Coach Mode Kisame took off running, wishing he didn't have the bulky helmet on, so that he could feel the nice morning breeze on his skin. _Oh well_ he thought, finishing his third lap before any of the other team members got outside, _at least he's batting.. No, kicking I guess because football, for my team._

And, then, like he did every morning, Hidan gave a flying leap from his spot on top of the bleachers and tackle-hugged Kuzu to the ground. All the cries of "You fucking!" "I mean you really can't be here right now." "Ow shit you little brat you're gonna pay for—" "No, no, Hidan no making out while I'm working!" were completely and wonderfully ignored as Kisame did another lap around the field, giving Hidan an air high five as he passed.

And, then, like Kakuzu did in an agitated, but slightly misplaced vengeance, every morning he ordered, "Give me twenty laps!" to the rest of the team as Kisame breezed by on his last.

 _What a gentle soul._ he mused, watching as Kakuzu shoved Hidan away, not toward the grass, but so his nose collided wit the metal bench. _Really he's one of a kind._

The members of Kisame's team grumbled ,and gave one or two irritated looks to Hidan, but practice went fairly well. None of the freshmen got smashed beneath the seniors, and Kakashi even managed to look up from whatever crap he was always reading to score a touchdown in their skirmish match. "Nice job everybody!" he called as they started their cool down work out, "If we keep this up we'll be all set for the game on Friday." There were some well meaning "Yeahs" from the newer kids, but everyone seemed pretty spent, himself included, so he let them all go back to the showers without a more in-depth pep talk.

"Don't you have a swim meet Friday?" Kakuzu asked, coming up alongside him, "Or is that canceled till you get the dues in order?"

Kisame groaned, "They wouldn't be so screwed up, and the swim club might actually have money if—"

"Don't even go there Fish Boy" Kakuzu said, shaking his head, "You said it was club member only territory and the Principal would get in your face if I helped."

"ugh" Kisame sighed, chucking his helmet into his locker, and running a hand through his spiky blue hair, "I know, I know. It's just… It's more that we don't have anyone coming to the meets, so the school doesn't want to put the money into the pool." He scowled into the mirror as he pulled his damp shirt off and reached for a towel, drops of sweat trickling down his collar bone, "Danzo said he'd be our Faculty Advisor, but you can guess how well that worked out."

Kakuzu grimaced in sympathy and shrugged, "Swim team Car Wash?"

"I thought you wanted to be a Personal Manager for some huge sports star, not President of the Parents' Association?"

"Sports stars typically have a positive net income, that isn't adversely affected by said stars spending all their summer work money on dye jobs and nipple piercings."

Kisame flung his towel at Kakuzu's head and sighed, "At this rate the car wash might be a good idea. I don't know, I'm going to do some planning during Study Hall today. You free for D block this semester? I forget."

"Nope, sorry."

""Does Hidan have ceramics D block?"

Kakuzu gave a less than sophisticated smile and nodded, "Yup."

"Oh" Kisame said, waggling his eyebrows, "That'll be fun."

His friend shrugged, "Maybe, it depends on how well Sasori and Deidera are doing this year."

"Ooh they in the class too?"

"Yup."

"Ugh, I hope they're all sunshine and daisies then."

"Me too." Kakuzu said, throwing Kisame's towel back to him, "And if they're not Hidan and I are going to hide next to the water color paints and stay, far, FAR away from the pottery wheel."

"Huh" Kisame mumbled as he walked into one of the empty shower stalls, "Good idea. Guess I'll see you at lunch then?" He heard Kuzu agree before the sound of the pounding water and someone else's Dub Step, Gai _'s_ he thought, drowned out all the other noise. "Don't kill your boyfriend too much for his choice in friends, eventually he might not come back!"

 _Maybe,_ he wondered as Gai's music got more intense, and he heard the big goof beginning to sing all high and off key as Kakashi asked him to stop, _We could march Gai around Main Street and make people pay us to turn him off?_ _Or,_ he went on, scrubbing the shampoo into his hair, _if we all went shirtless the car wash thing might work._ But he made a face, thinking about all the giggling girls that would show up, _Put that idea on the back burner for now._ Finally, the music turned off and Kisame heard Kakashi and Gai leaving the locker room; it took him a few more minutes, making sure all the soap was gone from his mocha colored skin, before stepping out of the shower and getting changed for class.

It really showed, a few hours later, how pessimistic he was feeling about the whole gaining support thing, that Kisame was considering joining Danzo's stupid League of Nations History Club to get on the creepy old guy's good side. "Argh." he pushed his fist into the computer's keys, enjoying the random flow of letters he saw spreading across the screen, as he punched the keys a few more times. "Damn it. Why can't I just sell my soul or something?" He was about to go on a little mental tirade about how God definitely had it out for queer kids, even ones that tried to conform and play sports and stuff, but he was interrupted by someone halting next to him.

Kisame was a big guy for fifteen, maybe not huge, but he was big enough, so he didn't go around worrying about getting stomped on by upperclassmen. He never had to be that kid that awkwardly looked around for a lunch table, because he was just sucked into one, the popular kids didn't mess with him because he could deck them in a fight, and the goth kids thought he fit in because… well, who doesn't want a big black gay guy on their side when dealing with snobs? So, although he couldn't get it from personal experience, he did feel for the kid standing next to him, tiny hands knotted in the bright red fabric of a… super cute coat, now that he took a second to look. Oh and she had really long black hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, that was nice too, but as Kisame saw the soft line of her shoulders, he began to go back to his computer, he was sure some other kid would offer up a seat in the library for such a cute girl.

 _Wait a fucking minute!_ his brain screamed, causing his eyes to flick back over to the kid's face, the tiny jaw, the small neck, the, _That's an Adam's Apple Kisa. That cute thing standing next to you is a boy! Get him, get him, get him now!_

"Hey, you can sit over here." he said, with barely a rasp to his voice. Damn, he was proud of himself for how collected he sounded, considering he was pretty sure his heartbeat was loud enough for the whole world to hear. "It's okay." he said, taking his backpack off the chair next to him, "Go ahead."

"You're not saving it for someone?" the younger boy asked, his eyes just as black as his hair, "I can sit somewhere else."

Kisame took a quick look around the library and shrugged, "I think your options are, here," he pointed at the chair, "The floor" he gestured toward the mottled gray carpet, "Or some senior's lap." he jutted his chin at a laughing group of kids in the center of the room. "But hey, whatever floats your boat."

The boy's cheeks reddened as he hastily dropped his bag to the ground and took the seat, "Thanks for the chair," he said, pulling a notebook out and placing it next to the computer. "Definitely the best option."

Kisame smiled and tried to go back to work. He erased the gibberish he'd been slamming into his document, but with all that gone his Plans So The Swim Team Doesn't Drown doc looked pretty nonexistent. He pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose and thought about restarting that mental tirade toward God, but again, the boy interrupted him.

"Did you do your hair yourself?" he asked, tucking a bit of his bangs behind an ear, "Or did you go somewhere?"

"Went somewhere" Kisame said, glancing down at the kid, "Have you ever gotten a hair cut?" _Your laugh is sooooo cute._ Kisame thought as the boy said that he had, but not since he was little, and how he only trimmed the split ends at home every once in a while. _Can I keep you?_ But Kisame reminded himself it wasn't good to stare, especially considering long hair didn't automatically mean this kid was gay, not really, but _Damn it God_ he thought, _He better be. Like if he's the Devil, consider my soul sold._

"I didn't know there was a swim team." The boy said, maybe not for the first time, Kisame had been slightly occupied, "What's wrong with it?"

"Are you a freshmen?"

"Nope Sophomore, and you?"

"Same" Kisame answered, _Oh shit,_ the thought crashed in on him, _Same grade? Maybe, same classes?_ He close the document on the computer, resolving to do some more brain storming at home, "We just don't have a lot of support for the team. A lot of the members who got people to show up graduated, so we're…"

"Kind of drowning?"

Kisame laughed, nodding, "Pretty much." _God,_ he prayed, as the boy turned away for a second to log into the school's wifi, _If he's gay than I'll forgive you for everything: this crap wit the pool, my dad's refusal to let me buy a motorcycle, my mother, even, even, even my half-brother, I'll forgive you for all of it, if this boy's like me._

"Ugh, that sucks." the boy said, the sympathy real on his face, "Do you have any meets people should go to? Like do they even know about them?"

"There's one Friday, but it's after the Homecoming Game. And no one really listens to public announcements during assembly."

The boy blinked up at him, long lashes brushing his cheekbones, "What are you talking about I take notes during Assembly." He tapped that notebook for good measure, grinning up at Kisame.

"Sure."

"No I really do. I'm an obsessively good student."

Kisame had to fight the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair, or poke him on the nose. "Okay, okay" he managed, with a hand raised, "than what can this miraculous student teach the lowly Hoshigaki Kisame about getting people to come to his swim meets?"

"Hmm" The boy made a show of rifling through his notebook papers, like he was actually reading some notes, "Well, Uchiha Itachi suggests through a very in depth look at his archived data, that you 1. Make some water themed posters, maybe with cartoon doodles, or even a few pictures of your team swimming if you can get time in the photo lab. And or, 2. Making a Facebook Group and getting one member of your team to bring one person, so then at least you'll have an equal ratio of team members and fans."

"Kisame smiled at him, reopened his doc, and wrote down what he'd said. "Thanks I wouldn't have thought about going to the photo lab. My friend's boyfriend is always around there, so maybe I can bug him."

Itachi grinned, before turning back to his own work, "Cool. What time is the meet on Friday?"

"5 o'clock."

Itachi picked up a purple gel pen that Kisame just noticed matched his nail polish, and wrote that down in a part of his notebook labeled, "Schedule." "Awesome, I'll see you then."

 _Has to be. Has to! Please God, please!_ Kisame went through the motions of checking his email, and fiddling with an English assignment, all the while stealing glances at Itachi. _I own that color polish, only reason I wasn't wearing it today was because of practice._

"Well, I've got 1st Lunch Period" Itachi said, catching one of Kisame's glances, like he'd known it would be there, "So I'll see you later?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure, sounds good." And with that Itachi stood up, slipped his backpack onto his shoulders, and slid behind Kisame's chair, _Oh I'm such a goner,_ he thought as the Library door closed, _Ah, fuck you teenage hormones!_


	4. Chapter 4

Itachi walked away from the computers with memories of blue hair falling across dark skin, a low chuckle that made him want to melt, and the feel of a broad shoulder that he'd touched with a passing hand clambering around in his head, demanding to be examined. There was an openness to Kisame that Itachi liked. He was… Easy to talk to. All it took was a small question on his part and then the guy was off explaining everything that was going on, giving the listener the impression that he was leaving nothing out. It was a good conversation he decided, as he pushed his way toward the front of the library, trying not to bump into other students who were heading to lunch. He was glad he'd gone to the library, and he would, definitely would, be seeing Kisame on Friday.

"Mr. Uchiha?" a woman's voice called to him, and then suddenly there was a hand on his arm. "Where is your, umm" the woman, maybe the librarian Itachi figured, paused for a moment, until she sighed in relief "Where is your walking stick?"

Itachi didn't look up at her; he only reached over and removed her hand, finally saying in a measured tone. "My cane, is in my backpack."

The woman didn't seem to react to his words as much as to the removal of her hand. Itachi heard the _tsk,_ sound whistling through her teeth, before she said, in an equally measured, but slightly more offended tone than Itachi's, "Well, your _cane_ isn't very useful if it's in your bag now is it?"

"No." he replied, glancing toward the now empty doorway. He could get outside before she touched him again couldn't he? _Hmm_ , he thought, looking back at the woman, _But I can't remember if those doors open In or Out. I suppose I should have factored, "The introduction of a cute boy into your schedule could severely impair your average performance in basic necessities. Including, but not limited to: Communication Skills, Directions, and Evasion Tactics." Into my day."_

The woman broke his concentration as she asked, "So then it would be best for you to take your cane out of your bag? Correct, Mr. Uchiha?" She had turned so that she was directly facing him, her hands on her hips, and Itachi could almost feel her suppressing the urge to tap her foot.

He wanted to tell her that he didn't need the cane, that his doctor was blowing things way out of proportion, that he just couldn't see the board anymore, that that didn't mean anything, and that teachers, especially ones who didn't even bother to introduce themselves had no business ordering him around, assuming they knew what was best for him. But, as the sound of students' laughter came from the area by the computers Itachi bent down, unzipped his bag, and took out his cane.

 _Getting in trouble is not worth it._ he told himself as he pulled off the elastic loop and unfolded the metal stick that would always prevent him from walking into a place unobserved. _Agree with her and you won't have to deal with her making this into a spectacle. Besides, I can just put it away after I leave. She can't follow me to the cafeteria._

He wrapped his right hand around the leather grip and placed the cane in front of him, saying, "I was just in a rush ma'am. I'll make sure to have it out now." Sometimes lying was easy. It could be a simple, "No I didn't stay up all night doing homework that's not due for a month." or a "Sasuke didn't eat all the tomatoes, I did." And even the more complicated omissions could be easy, but lies that made him pretend to be perfect and obedient were hard. They didn't disappear from his conscience for a while, not because they hurt anyone else, on the contrary, it was because they were the kind of lies that hurt Itachi, and only Itachi.

He took a deep breath as the woman turned away uttering some basic, "Good thank you. You be careful now Dearie." that Itachi didn't want to acknowledge. So he pushed through the doors, that, incidentally, opened Out, and began walking along the side of the building until he reached the cafeteria.

His eyes had just stopped being bothered by the bright autumn sunshine when Itachi walked into the building. Now, instead of being able to walk over to an unoccupied table, he had to stand there, by the entrance, like an invalid, with his cane that he'd forgot to put away, and wait for his vision to adjust.

 _It is not actually that dark_ he told himself. _It's a normally furnished lunchroom, with… Well, probably the state regulation amount of lights. With school buildings you never really know._ He took a few steps forward, keeping one hand at his side, with his fingers trailing along the wall, _Keep walking, the black dots will go away in a minute, the doctor said they only last a short time. Go on, Itachi, you can do it._

As he continued across the room, trying to walk further away from the blurs of passing people, and the noise of crowded tables, he heard a familiar voice call his name.

"Hey Itachi, you can sit over here!"

"Uh, are you sure Deidara?" Itachi asked, turning around to look at his blond-haired neighbor. "I was probably going to go—"

"Yeah no problem" he called, getting up and pulling out a chair at his table, "Come on. Come over here!"

Itachi shook his head slightly at Deidara's waving arms and "Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep" sounds as he got closer to his seat. "Having fun?" he asked, as he sat down, stuffing his cane into his bag and pulling out his lunch.

"Yes." Deidara said, plopping down into his chair. "Yes indeed I am."

"Hn."

"So" Deidara asked, leaning in close to Itachi, his hands banging on the table for emphasis, "How are classes going?"

"Fine." Itachi replied, taking a sip from his juice box, adding "My teachers are nice." after he received a not-too-gentle poke in the arm. "

"That's all?" Deidara shook his head, long strands of his hair shining gold in the sunlight, "You're a 13 year-old in Sophomore year of High School, where are the adventures? The Drama?"

Itachi looked at Deidara through the corner of his eye, watching as the boy he'd known since the first, and last, time his parents let Itachi sleep over at Deidara's house when he was five, constructed a french fry tower.

"Umm" he said, trying to think of something else besides that awful, yet interesting weekend, that had weirdly enough cemented their friendship. "I haven't gotten thrown in a locker."

Deidara scoffed, "No one's going to throw you in a locker."

"Are you sure? I'd fit."

"No you would—"

Itachi, ignoring Deidara's whines and grumbles, reached over and took four of his french fries. "Actually the average locker at our school is 5 to 5 and 1/2 ft tall, so I'm short enough." He placed two french fries vertically, a few inches apart. "Then, it's about 1ft wide" he placed the third fry on the bottom of the imaginary locker. "And finally" he said, placing the last fry on top, completing the rectangle, "They're 2ft deep, so if they put in some effort they could close the door on me."

Deidara, being an energetic person, who liked to drive fast in anyone's car, or have paintball fights everyday, was not often left speechless. But for a few seconds he just looked at Itachi, shaking his head, putting his hand to his mouth, while rolling his bright blue eyes. "Of course you would know that."

Itachi shrugged a shoulder and went back to his lunch, while Deidara added some more fries to his tower. "Either way, I'll kill them if anyone tries to put you in one."

"Why thank you" Itachi said, letting a smirk slide across his face, "But I wouldn't want you going to jail for me."

The two boys sat there in silence for a while, each of them enjoying the other's company as Deidara passed Itachi the fruit snacks he was no longer interested in eating, and as Itachi gave Deidara his empty juice box so he could use it as a base for another tower.

"Have you gotten everything moved into Obito's house yet?" Deidara asked, taking a break from his, as he called it, "Fry Fortress".

Itachi put his fork down, and placed his hands in his lap. "There are a few things left at our house, but it's things we're probably going to sell." He could see the lamp his mother had bought at a yard sale, claiming that the neon-orange monstrosity would add some character to their living room. "Some of dad's textbooks from the academy that he had beneath his desk." He saw the ashtray his parents kept on the back porch, the one that Uncle Obito said wasn't worth saving because it'd take too long to get the stains out. "There's more" he went on, "Baby clothes of Sasuke's, some of the kitchen appliances, and that awful, scratchy bedspread they had in the guest room."

Deidara's head popped up, "You mean that one that smelt like mothballs and, and, and, like old lady perfume?"

Itachi nodded and the both of them laughed. "What a subtle hint they didn't want anyone over." Itachi said smiling at the memory of his mother explaining that guests were fine, as long as they didn't overstay their welcome.

"At least they were polite about it." Deidara got out between giggles, "I'd just set their shoes on fire."

"True" Itachi said, not even thinking of testing that theory. He knew Deidara could be extremely volatile if provoked. "So" he ventured, letting his voice grow quieter, to keep Deidara from the ranty war path. "How are your classes?"

"Meh," Deidara crossed his arms and let out a small, "Waaaah" before saying. "I hate English. We're studying Shakespeare, and Plato, and a bunch of other dead people I don't care about."

Itachi nodded, beginning to tune his friend out as he realized Deidara was going to rant about something, and that was that. He vaguely heard things about the powers of modern expression and how we shouldn't be confined by the past, but soon his thoughts went elsewhere.

Since lunch had to be halfway over that meant it was around 12:15 pm, which meant he had just over two hours until school got out. He had to make sure that he didn't get lost walking into town this time. He'd been 20 minutes late yesterday, and that had really sucked. Itachi started imagining the school at the top of a map, making it big and blue. Then, on his mental map, he began drawing a thick red line from the school, down to the corner, then left across the street, down six blocks, NOT seven to the bookstore. Which would mean he'd have to turn right and—

"Earth to Itachi. Hello!" Deidara yelled in his ear, waving his hands in front of Itachi's face, thoroughly destroying what little concentration he had left. "You alive?"

"Yes."

"What's on your mind?" Deidara asked, in a quieter voice, all yelling done with. "You don't normally space out like that."

"It's, it's Sasuke." Itachi said after a second, his fingers going up to touch the necklace he always wore. "I'm picking him up after school today."

"Huh," Deidara started blowing at a piece of his hair, trying to get it to hover in front of his nose. "Do you want a walking buddy?"

"No."

"Well" he said, letting the strand of hair fall back onto his cheek, "Is it safe for you to walk all the way there?" "I mean" he added, wringing his hands, "Like I know you're capable, and a good brother" His words were getting faster as Deidara glanced down to make sure Itachi wasn't reaching for a projectile, "It's just— Umm, how can you find him? There's a lot of kids at his school. He's small. He's probably not going to wait were you asked him to, because you know, it's Sasuke. And uh, well, you're blind."

Itachi shook his head, and stood up. "Coming?" he asked giving Deidara a death glare Madara used when he was getting politicians to spill all their dirty secrets for one of his articles.

"But, what?"

Itachi picked up his bag and turned toward the doors, "The bell just rang. We're going to be late."

"Oh crap! Okay. Hey wait!" Deidara yelled scrambling around the lunch table, picking up his coat, a few colored pencils, a container of orange Play-dough, and chucking his tray in the trash.

"Didn't want to take a picture of your tower?" Itachi asked, slipping through the door and holding it open.

"Nah" Deidara answered as they walked toward the stairwell, "No point. I can make better stuff out of silverware at home."

The boys began trudging up the flights of stairs, Deidara going on about how History, just like English, was a class he had no patience for. When they got to the third floor landing Itachi sighed, Deidara was nice, but he had a habit of talking peoples' ears off. _Not like Kisame though._ _He seems worth listening to._ Itachi, however, was stopped from more imagining by the need to yank his friend back from walking face first into a ladder that one of the custodial staff was standing on.

"Smooth move" Itachi said, smirking, "At times, it seems, being an air head is more dangerous than being blind."

"Uh, eh, bu—" was all that came out of Deidara's mouth as he grumbled and harrumphed the rest of the way down the hall to their classroom.

"So, who doesn't need a walking buddy?" Itachi asked, sitting down at the desk closest to the door.

"You." Deidara said while thumping his textbook on the adjoining desk. "Ugh, how do you do that?"

Itachi pulled out his notebook, pen, and folder while saying, "I pay attention."

Deidara was about to reply, but Mr. Sarutobi walked into the room, his hand running along the length of his beard, appearing to be deep in thought. "Afternoon" he said, turning to face the class, "Who wants to come up and go over their Current Event?"

Itachi gave Deidara a pitying look as he heard a few muffled curses, while the older boy began scribbling on a sheet of paper. "Are you ever prepared?" Itachi whispered, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Not everyone's a genius like you." Deidara shot back, right as Mr. Sarutobi called on him.

Their teacher didn't hold things against students; he knew that they had their own lives and challenges so he was relatively fair on grades, but as Deidara began blathering about some, probably made up event, Mr. Sarutobi told him to sit down. "Even artists have to do their homework young man. Please just bring it in tomorrow."

He nodded and sat back down next to Itachi as the other students presented, and they were eventually separated into pairs for a group assignment. "Should I darken the lines of the map for you?" he asked after a few seconds of consulting their textbook and comparing it to the worksheet in front of them.

"You don't—"

Deidara elbowed Itachi and said with a grin, "Yes or no Uchiha?"

"Yes."

"All righty then." Deidara pulled out a few markers and began tracing their map, "Weren't your Aunt and Uncle going to homeschool Sasuke?"

Itachi, while pretending to put something back in his bag, clenched his fist, letting his nails dig into his palm as he shook his head. "No, no I told them that he should go to school."

"But, he's seven and his parents just died."

Itachi told Deidara to make sure that he didn't mix up Iran with Iraq before replying, "He needs to be surrounded by friends. Naruto, Kiba, they're all better for him than staying locked up in the house with Obito."

"He could still see his friends even if—"

"OBito is even stricter than my father Deidara." "And" he went on, forcing the words out. "He loves us, and I know he'd try his best to help Sasuke and teach him everything he needs to know." "But" Itachi said, speaking past the tightness forming in his chest. "Sasuke needs to laugh, and play, and learn. He needs to be a kid."

Deidara nodded, drawing a few sailboats in the water as he labeled the Red and Black seas. "Okay. Fair. Aren't you worried about him freaking out at school though?"

Itachi paused for a moment, his tongue pressing against his teeth, wanting to form words. But he couldn't ask, "Isn't anyone worried that I might do that?" They had to finish their assignment, and this was a conversation about Sasuke. Deidara was right, he's the kid who just lost his parents. Itachi had to, had to be the adult now, he wasn't allowed to break down. "We told him to go to the nurse's if he gets sad, or that he can talk to the teachers."

"What about at home?"

"He wakes up sometimes, asking, where they are." Itachi passed their map to Mr. Sarutobi who just shook his head at Deidara's boats. "He gets upset when Uncle Obito and Auntie Rin tell him they're not coming back."

"Ouch."

"Yeah" Itachi agreed, "When he's not really tired, he's okay. But you know how dreams, keep reality from sinking in? He keeps wanting to stay asleep."

Deidara took out his container of Play-dough and began molding it in his hands as mr. Sarutobi went over the worksheets. "Waking up after a nice dream sucks, especially when you find out real life is a complete shit—"

Itachi couldn't hear the rest of Deidara's words; the sounds of shrieking sirens and gasping students drowned them out. Mr. Sarutobi began directing the kids to the corners of the room, farthest from the windows, but Itachi stayed rooted to his chair.

"Come on" Deidara shouted over the noise, "Itachi it might not be a drill! Get up!"

He tried to move, to push back from his desk and follow Deidara, but his mind was stuck, stuck on Sasuke. _It's almost last period. Where is he in the building? Fuck, fuck, where is he?_

Mr. Sarutobi came over and yanked the quivering boy to his feet, and with Deidara's help, they got him settled on the floor next to the others. All the while his thoughts kept racing, trying to outrun the sirens. _Okay, Art. He's in Art. That room_ he thought, his head pressed into his knees, arms wrapped tightly around himself, _That room's in the basement. That increases his survival rate to 52%._

Itachi could hear Deidara cursing as he tried getting a cell signal, but Itachi knew, as he thought of Sasuke's messy bed head from that morning there'd be no service for hours. _No use, not until they're sure it's not a terrorist attack. They don't want to chance it._


	5. Chapter 5

Madara extracted his phone from his coat pocket with two fingers, and pressed the answer button with his thumb. The ringtone was impossible to hear beneath the roar of exhaust fans, continuous announcements about boarding times,and luggage being dragged along the floor by other departing passengers from American Airlines flight AA137. It never even crossed his mind to step toward the side of the hallway, or to keep hold of his satchel. Distantly as he listened to the voice on the other line, he heard the woman behind him screeching and stamping her foot.

She was saying something about "Look what you did? Your stupid bag just—"

Madara slowly turned his head, not lowering the phone from his ear, "I am having an important conversation right now. Be quiet." he said narrowing his eyes at the middle-aged woman. "Alright Tobirama" he went on, returning to his call, "you said it's not actually a bomb—"

"I will not be quiet!" the woman yelled, her hands on her hips, the left one clutching a glittering pink leash, "Your bag hit Pepë."

Madara didn't answer, only waited to hear Tobirama's response, despite the fact that he could see the woman scooping up her little Chihuahua and running off toward a security guard. "No, no, there was some sort of brush fire behind the school. Everyone's fine, but still, all the proper precautions have been taken."

"And that's why you're calling me on an unregistered, and insecure line?"

"Do you want me to tell you about Sasuke or not Uchiha?" "Sides" the Senju muttered "Your phone's got more passcode on it than the fucking CIA."

"Hn." "Is… Sasuke" Madara said slowly, between breaths, letting his voice get lower and lower with each word, "All right?"

"Yes." Tobirama replied, "He's sitting wit the other students in the gym. Before I came out here to call you he was playing Frog, Frog, Toad! with Uzumaki Naruto."

Madara rolled his eyes, remembering the yellow-haired knucklehead from the weekend after the funeral. He'd been hanging all over Madara's little nephew, pulling Sasuke's spiky hair, but still always managing to let Sasuke win whenever they played tag. His loud, goofy laugh kept things bright for the children, and his not so successful pranks even made some of the adults chuckle. "Good." Madara finally said, as he heard Tobirama clear his throat. "Did the sirens scare him?"

"I don't think so. He took it a lot better than some of the other kids."

"What, you mean you haven't given those mini-soldiers of yours a backbone yet?" Tobirama made some excuse about them being too young, and that he loved being out of the service while Madara walked closer to the television mounted on the west terminal wall, "Got it Toto. So what" But, Madara didn't get to ask his next question because a large airport security guard was staring him down. His bulky frame was even blocking Madara's view of the news headlines and traffic reports flashing across the t.v screen.

"Excuse me sir" the guard said, rolling back his shoulders, trying to match madara's height, "I have a woman here who claims you assaulted her service animal."

The same prissy woman with the pink leash stepped forward, her frizzy-haired mongrel whimpering in her arms; its microscopic paws covered in matching pink booties. "He just stopped walking, without any warning, made me walk into him, and then he threw his bag onto Pepë."

"I am still having that important conversation." Madara said, mouth in a straight line, night black eyes forcing the security guard to drop his gaze. "And what service does her dog provide?"

"He's my service animal." the woman cut in.

"So, not a wheelchair assist dog?" Madara asked, shoving past the guard so that he could get a better look at the arial shot of the city flashing across the screen. "Or is it helping with seizures?" The woman restated that the, now, yapping Chihuahua was a service animal, and that she had a certificate and everything while Madara listened to Tobirama walk back into the elementary school's gym. "

"What service does he provide?" Madara asked again, once the woman and the guard were done repeating her complaint.

"Sir" the guard mumbled, his eyes locked onto a point past Madara's shoulder "The dog's got a vest and was cleared to fly. His service isn't any of your business."

"Anyone can buy a vest."

The man blinked, chewing the inside of his cheek as he shuffled his feet, "Well he's only been agitated since you bothered this woman, and you're not making his job any easier."

Madara told Tobirama to wait a minute, and lowered his phone to his side. "I" he made sure to glare at the woman while he spoke, "do not have time for this nonsense now, or any time. Please leave me alone before I report you."

"You can't do that! I'm—"

Madara reached into his breast pocket and held up a wallet, but instead of credit cards and coins showing when he let it fall open, five forms of identification folded out, one after the other. There were badges for both the CIA and Interpole, an Ambu Insignia, a dangling pair of military dog tags, and finally, a bright and shiny, Concealed Carry Permit. "Well, I'm sure something could be arranged."

Immediately the security guard began blubbering, mumbling "I'm sorry sir, so sorry." while the woman scooped up her dog and ran away in a huff.

"All done terrorizing the public?" Tobirama asked, "Because it'd be nice if you came down her and picked your nephew up."

Madara slung his satchel over his shoulder, placed his wallet back in his pocket, and began walking away from the still yapping Chihuahua without a backwards glance. "Obito would be closer." "Speaking of which" Madara said, pushing his way through the crowded airport, "Why didn't you call him?"

"I did. He never picked up."

"Did you try his office?"

"His receptionist said he was out at some meeting. You were the only other person I could think of who'd be… suited for picking up Sasuke."

Madara jogged down the granite steps and began walking quickly out of the parking lot, toward the street. "Fine. I wouldn't want Rin driving him around anyway." "You're lucky I answered. I just got to the city."

"Off gallivanting with the enemy again?" the Senju asked after turning away from the phone to tell some students to quiet down.

"They let you teach children?" Madara asked, keeping his voice level.

"Course they do" "Wait, you just got here?"

Madara sighed, noticing the flashing traffic lights at the intersection, suppressing a groan when he saw the taxis lined up, unoccupied, at the station, with a "Closed until all city sectors have been deemed secure" sign. "Yeah, my flight landed a few minutes ago."

"All your quills intact Porcupine? I know how much you hate using public transportation."

"At least I have a large prick Snow White."

"Fuck you!"

"Not my job."

Tobirama turned his face away from the phone, and Madara could faintly hear him explaining that Yes he had used a bad word, But sometimes adults need to use them. "Cursing in front of minors; you should have your certification revoked." Madara said, smirking.

"Shut it Uchiha." was Tobirama's only reply.

"Give the phone to Sasuke."

Tobirama didn't say anything, he just walked through the group of kids, and after another minute Madara heard his nephew's squeaky voice. "Uncle Maddie? That you?"

"Yeah squirt," Madara answered, pulling his head away from the phone, "You don't have to yell, I can hear you just fine."

"Ok!" Sasuke said, the sound of a smile in the first grader's voice, "Mr. Senju says you're going to come bring me home. Does that mean you can stay for dinner? And play tag? And—"

"Sasu" Madara interrupted, "Are you feeling okay? Do you understand what's going on?"

There was a pause, then a quieter, slower, "Yeah, Uncle Maddie, I'm good. The sirens were super loud though. I thought my head was gonna es-plode."

Madara chuckled as he started walking through the deserted downtown, "Yeah they are noisy. Glad your head's in one piece."

While Sasuke began chattering on about what they could have for dinner, and about whether or not Obito would let him have Naruto over for a sleepover the phone banged onto the floor. "Sasuke?" Madara asked, voice a little tight, "Hey kiddo?"

"It's all right" came Tobirama's reply, "Looks like Itachi's here. I didn't think they'd be letting the high schoolers out yet."

"How the… but the buses aren't running." Madara half asked, half said. "How did he get to you?"

"Ran I think, by the look of him anyway." Tobirama said after confirming what Madara said about the buses. "He's just giving him a hug."

"Give Itachi the phone then would you?" madara asked, turning onto a side street with leaves that were just beginning to turn into fiery reds and blazing yellows.

A little bit of static and a quiet "Shh" from Itachi to Sasuke then Madara's oldest nephew was saying, with a catch in his voice that made Madara remember how innocent the boy used to be. "Uncle Maddi—" he waited a moment, taking a huge breath, probably wiping some sweat from his face, his cheeks reddening like Izuna's always did after running. "Hello Uncle Madara, are you in town?"

"I am." "Did you really run from school?"

Itachi said yes and Madara could hear him pulling Sasuke onto his lap, situating the little boy inside his coat. "I did. There weren't any cars out, so it was easier than it could have been."

"Aren't you supposed to use a cane?"

Itachi answered "I do" a bit too quickly for Madara to totally believe him, remembering how hard it had been to make Izuna use his at first. But he decided to let it go for now.

"Have you heard from Obito?"

"Not yet. I was planning on taking Sasuke home after leaving a message."

"You know the buses aren't running?"

"Yes. Sasuke and I are going to walk back through the park."

"How long will that take you?"

"Umm" Itachi said, taking a moment to ruffle Sasuke's hair, and tell his little brother that he loved him, "Probably a half hour. Will you be stopping by?"

"YEAH!" Sasuke yelled, probably right into the receiver, "And he's going to stay for dinner, and play tag, and let me use his camera."

"Excuse me?" Madara asked, laughing, "I didn't promise you any of those things Sasuke."

"Well—" Sasuke tried to say, but he wasn't able to deliver a comeback before Itachi wrestled the cellphone from him.

"We can meet you at the house around 4:00 if you want."

"Sure" Madara said, rounding another corner, "That sounds great. Call if anything, and I mean anything happens."

"Yes sir." Itachi answered, pulling Sasuke up from the floor, telling him to say goodbye to Naruto.

"Bye Itachi, could you give the phone back to Tobirama?" Madara said, wishing he could say he loved the boys without the words getting stuck in his throat.

"Sure. See you soon." Itachi replied, passing the phone before Madara could get that damn sentence out.

"Sooo," Tobirama ventured, "How long you in town for?"

"You care? I didn't know you missed me so much Toto. God."

"Oh please. Just want to know if you'll be stopping by to see anyone while you're here."

"You wanna die that badly huh?" Madara asked, "Let me drop my stuff at Obito's and I'll come see you. You want me to bring the rifle or the bazooka?"

Konoha Street was calm and quiet when Madara arrived there twenty minutes later. A few people were in their yards or garages, now that the all clear sirens had been heard, and the news bulletins had said everything was all right, but there wasn't anyone familiar to talk to as Madara sat down on the stone wall in front of Obito's house.

"Your political ideals don't give you the right to be—" came Itachi's voice from around the corner, but it was cut off and Madara picked up the sound of Sasuke's cry, before he started running.

"Oh come on" came the voice again, "You gotta talk these things out." "Don't you like talking?" the man asked, voice low, low enough that Madara could hear a thud of a body, Itachi's body, hitting something hard.

"Stop. We haven't done any—"

"Just because I look a little different than you, aren't dressed as nice" the man's voice changed again, sounding like a snarl, as Madara scanned the streets, trying to figure out which alleyway they were in. "Doesn't mean you can judge me brat." "Saying I don't belong here—"

"You're not a resident of the base." Came a muffled protest from Itachi, the young man sounded furious, and his breathing was harsh. "I told you I'm…" Madara wasn't sure what the pause was for, but he felt his heart start to beat again when he heard Itachi say "I'm blind. If you've got an ID just show me!"

As Madara stood at the intersection, frantically turning his head, trying to see the boys, he had to keep the panicked thoughts at bay. _Not them too_ he thought, remembering the closed casket holding what was left of Fugaku and Mikoto. _They're too young,_ he could see the large expanse of his platoon during boot camp graduation, the bright and shining faces of so many young people. Then all he could see was that pile of rubble, his team destroyed, the enemy closing in. _Haven't they suffered enough?_ he asked, remembering all those sleepless months, all the horrible night terrors, as he heard the man calling the boys out on their nice clothes, their "perfect" life.

"You got any idea what I go through every day? Just to get by?"

"Please stop." Itachi said, "We won't tell, promise."

"You're missing the point kid. And you're brother was saying how smart you are. Guess that ain't true." Madara wanted to hurt this man, shove him down into the pavement and make him pay. But Madara was almost sure he saw Sasuke and his little blue coat, so he put on a burst of speed. "You ever seen outside the Demilitarized Zone?"

"No of course not. It's not safe."

"Oh I'm sure you'd be fine." "Your big ass government would protect you, while my people rot."

"If there's something wrong in your country than change the—"

"That's what everyone thinks kid." came the man's voice again, so much closer now, "You think people will listen, will want to work together. But it's survival of the fucking fittest." He paused then and Madara's feet pounded on the sidewalk as he skidded around the next corner, catching sight of Sasuke's spiky hair over a trash can, seeing a filthy, brown-coated man, pressing an arm against Itachi's neck. "You said you're blind didn't you?" he asked, forcing Itachi to nod, "So you wouldn't do good where I'm from." "Let's go for a visit!" the man yelled, hauling on Itachi, yanking his black hair.

"Aniki!" Sasuke yelled, "Stop it, stop it! Don't hurt him!" "No!" he screamed, tears pouring down his face, "He's my brother. Stop it. No Weasel you can't go! Make him stop!"

Even when their parents died Madara never heard Sasuke scream like that. He'd gone quiet and sobbed a bit, but he'd never thrown a tantrum or took out his pain on anyone. Fugaku raised his boys to be kind, strong, and honest, and it was that honest tone to the crying boy's voice that sent pain through Madara's chest.

But as he was about to tackle the man he could now see dragging Itachi through the gravel, another voice cut in. "Let him go or I'll rip your throat out."

The man was… No Madara saw, taking a second look, the boy was tall, with mocha skin, was that blue hair? And he'd gotten the attention of the scum bag who still had a fist raised above Itachi's bruised face. "This ain't any of your business kid. Get the fuck out of here."

As the man took a step toward him the boy moved forward as well, putting his body between the man and Sasuke. "You're too old to be picking on children."

The man's lip curled, his bright eyes narrowing, the bitterness and anger carving harsh lines into his skin. "Do you know who I am kid? You don't want to be lecturing me."

The boy turned his remarkable mist pale eyes toward Sasuke, his voice going soft, for a moment, portraying how young the boy really was. "It's okay, you go check on Itachi now all right? I got this guy."

With that Sasuke bolted across the alley, crouching down next to his older brother, who Madara was glad to see, was now sitting up, back braced against the house's brick wall. "You're hurt, he hurt you. I'm sorry I'm sorry. We gotta—"

The man whipped around and yelled "Shut up!" and was about to walk toward Sasuke when the boy grabbed him.

"I don't give a flying F who you are. Turn around, get your sorry, bigoted, insensitive ass out of here." "Or" he said grinning, showing amazingly pointed teeth, shining in the afternoon light, "I" he locked the man's free arm behind his back, "will" he pushed him forward, despite the man's yells, "rip" they were at the other end of the alley, near the street "your" the boy kicked him in the back of the knees, making him fall, then delivered a few well-placed punches to the guy's back, shoulders, and head, "throat" then he turned, letting the battered man get to his feet and begin slinking away, "out".

Then, the rave-blue-haired boy walked, very slowly, his arms out in front of him, toward Madara's nephews. "Where did he hit you?" he asked, kneeling a foot away, "Did he break skin," "Or" he said, grimacing, "Do you think he broke any bones?"

Itachi's arms were wrapped, vice like, around Sasuke, his cheek pressed against the little boy's head, and though Madara couldn't hear, he could tell Itachi was whispering softly to his otouto. "Didn't break any bones." he finally said, voice shaky, more fragile sounding than it had been in years. "Some cuts I think though."

"Where?" the boy asked, and although Madara desperately wanted to stay, he knew that monster of a man was getting further out of his reach. He took a deep breath, staring hard at the three boys, and turned, running down the street, to hopefully cut the man off at the next intersection.


	6. Chapter 6

Now, Madara knew not everyone was light on their feet, he understood that some weren't as fit as him, acknowledged that others might have a disability, and was aware that he'd had much more physical training than the average man, but God Damn It, this asshole was so loud. It took Madara less than three blocks to catch up with the jerk, and less than thirty seconds to have him pinned, screaming, to the ground. "As much as I'd love to blow your brains out, that'd be a lot of paperwork." Madara sighed, letting the man see the glint of his pistol poking out of his jacket pocket. "So do us both a favor" he said, loosening his grip enough so that the bedraggled man could sit up, "and be quiet."

"I, I" the man stuttered, the angry gleam in his eyes fighting for control over the smarter, more self-preserving, fear. "Who the Hell are you?" he finally asked, mouth pulling back to show dirty yellow teeth, "What the fuck's your problem man? I didn't do anything—"

"You" Madara interrupted, calm and collected as ever, "just assaulted my nephews."

That brought the man up short, but the anger still didn't leave his gaze, "Those kids were harassing me. Telling me to get the fuck off the base."

"Hmm" Madara paused for a moment, as if looking down the street toward the alley where Itachi, Sasuke, and that strange boy were probably still sitting, "really? What I believe they were doing, was, correctly" he pressed down on the man's shoulder, preventing him from standing, "informing you that you do not belong here."

"It's a free country."

"But you're not a citizen of this one are you?" Madara asked, shaking his head with a disapproving smile, "And when my nephew— in the most polite way I'm sure, because he has beautiful manners just like his mother— asked what you were doing on the premises, you retaliated."

"No" the man spat out, grinding his filthy teeth, "the little one asked why I looked like those bad people on the news!"

"Let's not shout." Madara said, keeping his hand planted firmly on the man's quivering shoulder, "Okay, so a six-year-old boy asked his big brother why you look like someone on the news… And then you beat the older brother up?" "Am I missing something here?" Madara went on, glaring into the watery, bloodshot, eyes of the man. "I'd really like to understand why you attacked a teenager."

"That's not, That's not what happened."

"Okay" Madara answered, drawing out the word, letting the tiniest bit of his loathing seep through, "then, in your own words, tell me what did happen."

"I just left a meeting with some friends" he quickly glanced up at Madara, jutting his chin back toward the distant park, "over in the square, by the bookstore and was taking a walk before going home."

"Where's your home?"

"Fuck off."

"Where, is, your, home?"

"Ain't any of your business."

"Yes" Madara said, letting the man catch another glimpse of his gun, "Yes it is."

The man let out a breath, a drop of sweat sliding down his jaw, "Across the border."

"Ah. So you're not a citizen?"

"I don't have to be a—"

"Actually" Madara cut in, smirking ever so slightly, the wind blowing strands of his black hair in front of the man's face, "since this is a military base, surrounded by a Demilitarized Zone you do have…" "Oh wait" Madara stopped for a moment, as if struck by an idea, "You wanted to take my nephew through the zone correct? Weren't you saying something about him not doing well on your side of the border?"

The man's face paled, contrasting badly with his dirt brown hair. "I didn't. It was a joke. I mean come on. I wouldn't take a kid across."

"You" Madara got out, without the growl he felt bubbling up in his throat, "were pulling him by the hair."

"He was yelling at me. Was saying a bunch of stupid things about where I come from."

"Was this before or after you punched him?"

"You— I—"

"Well, all right" Madara said glancing down at his watch, "let's move this along for now. Ignoring the fact that you really shouldn't be here for any sort of meeting, with friends or otherwise, you left them and bumped into my nephews?"

"Yeah. The spiky-haired one asked why my clothes were dirty, why I had my tattoos, and the older one whispered something, probably telling the little brat to shut the fuck up, and he asked if I was lost."

"Were you?"

"No. I was just killing time befo—"

"Before?"

"Nothing I was just relaxing before heading home. Said I wasn't lost and the kid asked to see some ID like he was a fucking Police Officer."

"What did you do then?"

"Said he had no right to be bothering me, that I had just as much a right to be walking around, and told him if he knew what was good for him, he'd get him and his brother home."

"Why's that?"

"Cause" the man paused, licking his, now dry lips. "Because, because there'd been all those sirens going off earlier. Some shit going on downtown."

"And since you were so worried about these kids' safety, you beat them up?"

"I didn't fucking.. The kid yelled at me first."

"So the scary" Madara put emphasis on his next words, digging his fingers into the man's skin, wishing he could do more, "thirteen-year-old boy yelled at you, and you hit him?"

"He called me a trespasser, said he'd report me. You know what that'd do to—"

"You'd be jailed for illegally passing the border, fined a small sum, and—"

"It's not a small fucking sum! It's!"

"No yelling." Madara half-whispered, shaking his head, "I know it might be a large sum for you, but your government, along with mine, and all the others who took part in the treaty five years ago agreed on the financial punishments that would be dealt out to law-breakers."

"That treaty is a load of crap. It didn't even stop the fighting." The man's voice wasn't broken, but he had gotten quieter, even quiet enough for Madara to hear the opening of garage doors, an automatic sprinkler, and the occasional bark of a dog as the city came back to life.

"It" Madara explained, "was not supposed to stop all of the fighting."

"Then what the Hell's the point?"

Madara let out a breath, brushing his bangs aside, and wishing he didn't have to have this conversation, wishing a certain brown-haired man would pick up his phone so Madara could send this idiot to prison already. "The goal of the Base Oasis Treaty is to ensure that there are safe, comfortable, and profitable places to live. This idea ensures that all countries" he jabbed a thumb into the man's muscle, digging around the jointure of his neck and shoulder, "yes, even your shit hole, moron, have a chance to improve their quality of life so that maybe," he smiled to himself as the man winced, " over-enthusiastic, trigger-happy radicals won't cause World War IV."

"Where do you get off—" the man spluttered, his eyes still wide from the pain in his side, "Where the Hell do you get off on calling that fair?"

"I don't."

"You just think it's okay because you and your fucking base already had resources, infrastructure, fucking jobs!"

Madara released the man's shoulder, and took both his hands, twisted them behind the man's back and held them there while the man whimpered. "Stop yelling." "And" he said, happy to feel the vibration from his phone's ringtone, "Stop cursing. In case you weren't sure, speaking like an angry asshole doesn't make you any friends."

It seemed like the fear was winning the battle in the man's eyes; they were wide and frantic, the bloodshot lines quivering as Madara removed his phone from his pocket and clicked the talk button. "About time." he said without any sign of strain in his voice despite the man's renewed thrashing. "Meet me at the corner of—"

"Most people say "Hello, it's so and so, how are you?" when they call someone Madara." came Hashirama's light voice, "What's going on?"

Madara let out a breath he told himself he'd been holding because of how much he wanted to hit the scumbag who hurt his nephews. Since that breath wasn't, couldn't, be in response to that low toned speech that… Madara shook himself, giving the still grumbling man a kick in the thigh for good measure, and replied. "Hello person who hasn't been picking up a distress call for the last fifteen minutes."

"I was busy."

"Hn."

"Why I am I meeting you somewhere?" Hashirama finally asked, his voice warmer, "Are you in town?"

"Yes, I'm a the corner of Gama and Tatsu street. Got a mal-content who was assaulting some kids."

"Oh God, why? Are they okay?"

"The children." Madara said, not wanting to say their names in front of the now struggling man, "They'll be fine, as long as you come and take this idiot off my hands and give him to those question asking people we know."

"Of course, sure, I'll leave right now." Hashirama said.

The muffled sounds of car keys jingling and arms, _warm and welcoming arms,_ Madara thought before he could stop himself, slipping into coat sleeves made Madara blink hard to stop the images. _I am working right now._ he said in that calm, clipped voice that tolerated no disobedience, that had helped him survive. _You get this guy to Jounin— to Kage Senju and he'll get questioned. They'll figure out whatever shit he and his friends were planning, and then, if you're lucky you'll be the one to kick down the door of the terrorist cell's hideout._

Madara kept repeating phrases like that as he waited for his old teammate to arrive. The sun was finally poking out, and it blazed down on Madara's long hair, reminding him of far less kinder days, like ones when there would have never been any back up to come bail him out.

"Ooh, who gotta hold of him?" Hashirama asked as he jumped out of his car, "You didn't?"

"No" Madara answered, yanking the trembling man to his feet, "Luckily a local kid intervened before I had to. Roughed him up a little then sent him running."

"Local" Hashirama said slowly as he took out his phone to snap a picture of the man, "Kid." Sending the photo off to VICAP he passed a pair of handcuffs to Madara and shrugged as he put his phone back in his pocket. "Huh. Weird."

"That your professional opinion as a member of the military?" Madara asked, enjoying watching the color completely fade from the man's face, and noticing how even though he kicked an flailed Madara had no problem shoving him into the back of Hashirama's work vehicle.

"Maybe." "Now what do you say?"

Madara suppressed a groan, wishing he was still upset enough to justify whacking Hashirama in that smiling face of his. "Your help was much appreciated."

"5 points for grammatical complexity." said the Senju, nodding to Madara, "0 for familiarity and affection." He settled himself in the front seat after Madara secured the convict, making the seatbelt a bit tighter than it needed to be. "I'll let you know what we get out of him. Make sure to file your report."

"Of course." Madara said, "I'll do it while i go over the incident with the kids."

"Good." "You want me to come back and help after I give him to the Anbu?"

Madara shook his head, beginning to walk off before Hashirama had a chance to say goodbye. "No. I got it." he said, not wanting to risk the chance of even more pity from Hashirama. He knew that if his friend figured out it'd been Itachi and Sasuke that were assaulted, he'd be leaving baby kittens and chocolates on his doorstep for a year.


	7. Chapter 7

Kisame couldn't see any bruises on Itachi's face except for one on the side of his temple, "Well at least it looks like you hit your head on a door or something." He ventured, trying to make the air less tense. "You won't have the school journalists following you into the bathroom for quotes or anything."

Itachi grimaced, like he'd rather take his chances with the peeping journalists than be called a klutz, but he nodded, managing to hide the worst of the wince from Sasuke, who was still curled up in his arms, head pressed against his brother's chest, hands clutching Itachi's shirt. "Yes. True."

"Is it okay if I roll up your jeans, to check the cuts on your knees?" Kisame would have been ecstatic to do this earlier in the day, probably as red in the face as Itachi's jacket. But right now there was no leering grin pulling at the edges of his mouth, instead his lips were a thin line, the tips of his teeth pressing into his skin. "Gotta see if you'll need stitches right?"

"Yes. I don't think I will," Itachi maneuvered his brother, keeping him tucked beneath his chin as he unfolded his legs, the grime and dirt from the alley all over them, "Thank you… Thank you for helping."

"I'm just glad I was here." the older boy said, gingerly folding back the denim over Itachi's ivory skin; the thin, too thin, legs Kisame realized, thankfully, weren't cut too badly. "You might be able to keep them."

"No prosthetic?" Itachi asked, with the tiniest hint of that smart-talking cutie Kisame had met that afternoon, back in his voice. "They sting horribly though. Are you sure—"

"It's just a lot of torn up skin; you're all raw down the front of your calf. Must hurt like a" Kisame stopped himself, looking down at Sasuke's black eyes, still wide and staring, listening and aware,even if the little boy hadn't said anything in a few minutes. "Must hurt really bad." he finally said, pleased with his save. "I can call my dad; we can—"

To both the teenagers' surprise Sasuke spoke up, "No, our house is closer." He nuzzled into Itachi, putting his tiny, unharmed hands over Itachi's dirty, scratched ones. "Aniki home right? We can go home?"

"Of course. Good idea Sasu." Itachi said, not pulling away as Kisame helped him, slowly, to his feet.

"Hey" Kisame said, wondering if he was going to scare the little kid. "Sasuke right?"

He nodded.

"It might be better for Itachi if I carry you; is that okay? I carry my brother all the time." He tried smiling, than realized the sharpened fang implant things might be kind of scary, so he just tried to make himself radiate friendly vibrations of warm goodness. "Or you can ride piggy back. I'm sure my big muscles could lift you." He struck a pose, happy to see the small smile on Itachi's face at least. "What do you think?" he asked, kneeling a bit so he was at a level with the first grader. "Deal?"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity where Kisame relived every embarrassing, total foot in his mouth, moment in his entire existence the kid nodded again. "He's safe?"

Itachi kissed the top of his head, and even though Kisame hated mushy stuff, he figured some sibling bonding was called for. "Yes. I know him from school. he's nice."

"Did I pass the test?" Kisame asked, taking the boy from Itachi, glad to see some of the tension leave the boy as the weight went away, "Itachi approves, so what does that get—" "Aga. Aargh." he had to stop talking since Sasuke had reached up, without asking or saying anything, and pulled out the upper part of his teeth. "Umm" he said through a lisp, as he managed to get the other one out of his mouth, "Excuse me little guy, those are my shark teeth."

Sasuke giggled holding the teeth up to his own mouth, "Munch, munch." He paused then, watching Kisame slip the other half of the teeth into a case, "That's what you were gonna do to the monster man?"

Kisame sighed, telling Itachi to stop apologizing as they stepped out of that awful alleyway. "Yep. Was gonna munch his throat right out of him." "Like this!" he said, fake biting the kid's neck, stopping before touching skin, "Yum, yum, human flesh… Mmm." It was good to hear a happy kid, especially since his screaming for Itachi had freaked the fuck out of Kisame. It'd sounded to familiar, to like a memory he didn't want to remember. Not to mention the fact that Sasuke was just around his age when Kisame was yelling for his mom like that.

"Sasu" Itachi ordered, a hand on Sasuke's little shoulder, while he walked stiffly next to Kisame, "Give his teeth back."

'Kay."

And with that Kisame had a perfectly contaminated piece of prosthetic dentistry he'd been trying to mold to his face since school let out. "Thanks Sasuke." Kisame decided to say, figuring he could just use this pair of teeth to model the scale for his next attempt. "Which house is yours?"

""The one with the blue door." replied the little boy, squirming until Kisame set him down on the walkway in front of the cream-colored 2-story house. "I'll open it."

Itachi took Kisame's hand again as they walked up the little steps and Kisame's heart fluttered, and god damn it, it was a flutter. A nervous ball of energy in his stomach, left over from the adrenaline of kicking that asshole down the street. "Is anyone home?"

"No our Aunt and Uncle are still at work." Itachi said, sinking into a spot on the couch, laughing slightly as Sasuke began running around the kitchen grabbing bandaids, Neosporin, and… cough medicine. "Thanks."

"What about Uncle Maddie?"the little boy asked, smiling wide at his brother, though Kisame did notice the worried, very grown up looking awareness, in Sasuke's eyes.

"He might've gotten held up by a checkpoint Sasu; they put those up sometimes after warning sirens go off." "You want to call him?" Itachi asked after wincing at the warm towel Kisame pressed against his legs, "You can use my phone."

"Sure!"

The two teenagers shared a smile as Sasuke ran off, the cellphone clutched in his hand, the "beep, beep" of buttons sounding as he went to put his bag away. "Just an aunt and two uncles?" Kisame asked, being careful to work out all the gravel in the cuts before rubbing in the medicine.

"Yes." Itachi said, watching the older boy work, "We lost our parents in an explosion last year, so Obito and Rin were kind enough to keep us, and Madara visits when he's not traveling for research on a newspaper article."

"Oh shit, I'm.. Ouch. That's hard." Kisame finally got out, remembering the crying relatives at his mother's funeral, the mostly empty casket. "Are Obito and Rin nice?"

Itachi nodded, explaining Rin's willingness to occupy Sasuke with games and stories when Itachi was busy doing assignments for school. And he mentioned how Obito worked long hours, but was good at providing for everyone, ending with a comment about how fortunate Sasuke and he were, with a smile that didn't reach his coal black eyes. "Yes, I'd say they are very nice."

Before Kisame could ask any more questions Sasuke came back into the room, sock covered feet skidding on the hardwood floor. "Uncle Maddie caught monster man. He said he sent him to get executed and—"

"Interrogated Sasu." Itachi interrupted, calmly, "How did he know?"

"He was waiting for us duh, like he promised." Sasuke glanced over at Kisame, with a visible effort, reminding himself to speak slowly. "He chased the man after he saw… saw… saw… Sharky helping."

"Name's Kisame. And I didn't hear any police sirens going off. How'd he get the guy?" asked Kisame, grinning at Sasuke's little nickname. "He got superpowers?"

"He was in the military." the little boy supplied, scrambling up on the couch to help put kitty cat covered bandaids on his brother. "So… I think so."

Then, there was the sound of the front door turning and a massively tall, muscled, man stood n the entryway, taking everything in. "Next time" he said, taking his jacket off and hanging it on a hook, "you tell me you're walking home from school, I'm giving Tobirama permission to tie you both up until I get there."

There were those same black eyes that Kisame guessed all the Uchiha had, but the man's, Madara's hair was even spikier and longer than Itachi and Sasuke's combined. _Jesus, how long does it take to dry?_ he thought, moving aside so that Madara could kneel down in front of his nephews.

"Hi squirt" he said to Sasuke, "did you give your brother his phone back yet?" Wen the little boy nodded quickly, promising up and down that he had, Madara just held out one hand, waiting patiently, until Sasuke passed him the cellphone, pouting. "Good job."

Kisame couldn't help thinking _Journalist my ass._ as Madara's scars moved with each breath. There was a truly remarkable one across his jugular, the ridged skin even paler than the rest of the imposing _totally still a fucking soldier._ "You were in the alley?" he asked after a minute, remembering the dark figure he'd seen out of the corner of his eye before wailing on the jerk who'd beaten Itachi up.

"Hn" Madara replied, inspecting Kisame's handiwork, giving Sasuke a knowing look when he saw the kaleidoscope of colored bandaids. "Yep."

"How'd you catch him then? He went racing down the other block?"

For a moment Madara turned his gaze on Kisame's, and the teen realized how very different those dark eyes were from the two boys next to him. Madara's were layered, piercing, and it took all of Kisame's will to not turn his head away and look ashamedly down at the floor. "I'm fast."

"Got it." Kisame said, figuring that he might want to wait a few more minutes before asking another question, apparently Madara was touchy.

"Where did he hit you?" Madara asked Itachi, gently moving his large hands over his nephew's chest, "Ribs, stomach, both?"

Itachi's breath caught and he bit his lip, while Kisame mentally cursed himself for not asking that question earlier. "My shoulder" he glanced down at Sasuke, patting the strands of dark hair that stuck up around the boy's head, "when I tried to walk us past."

"And where else?" Madara questioned, leaning back for a moment, "I guess you looked at the bruise on his temple?"

It took Kisame a second to realize Mr. Stoic was talking to him. "Uh, Umm, yeah. And we cleaned out the cuts on his legs."

"Hn" Madara said again, nodding, "Thank you…"

 _Jesus is that his fucking catch phrase_ the blue-haired boy thought, before answering "I'm, Hoshigaki Kisame."

"Ah," was all Madara said to that, deciding their conversation was over, and turned back to prodding Itachi's chest. "You hit anything when he knocked you down?"

"Left hip. Oh—" Itachi whined as Madara, instead of checking Itachi's leg, went picking through the hair on his scalp, removing a few tendrils of torn hair and skin. "Thank you very much Uncle Madara." Itachi said in a calm, collected voice that impressed Kisame. "Can you check Sasuke now? He got pushed around also. I want to know if he's okay."

Sasuke scooted over on the couch, waggling his feet at his uncle, and explaining to Madara about how brave Itachi had been telling the guy off, and how cool it was when Kisame came in bearing his shark teeth. "Uh huh" Madara murmured, "Which cat bandaid do you want?"

"Both."

"Why?"

Sasuke grinned the way Kisame's brother did sometimes, that mischievous happy smile that meant he was in his own little world where adults and bigger kids weren't ever allowed. "So they don't get lonely." Kisame thought that their uncle would just shake his head and stand up, but he did what Sasuke asked, and put the two bandaids over the one nasty scrape on the back of his nephew's hand, with the tiniest of smiles on his face. "Thanks Uncle Maddie."

"Sure squirt, now go put some shoes on." Madara turned to the teenagers, "Help Itachi outside." Before any of them could ask what was going on Madara turned to grab his coat, while scribbling a note and placing it on the coffee table, "Can't leave you alone here; you're coming to my house."

"So, Kisame ventured, as he walked beside Itachi, holding his hand in case he got unsteady… and well, because it was nice while Madara walked with Sasuke piggyback. "What rank are you in the military?"

"I was" Madara annunciated each word, not bothering to glance back as he rounded the corner of Konoha Street, "a Jounin."

"Wow that's a few levels below a Kage right?"

"Hn."

Kisame opened his mouth to respond, but he felt Itachi squeeze his hand. "He was MIA before the treaty was signed." "It's" itachi paused, slowing as they stepped over a bump in the sidewalk from a tree's root, "It's a tough subject for him."

"For how long?"

"three years. He came home when Sasuke was a few weeks old."

Kisame nodded, beginning to realize that every time they reached a dip or curve in the pavement Itachi shuffled his feet, or tried to hide a small stumble. "How's your head?" he asked, really hoping it wasn't a concussion. "Achey?"

"No I'm all right." The younger boy lifted his eyes from the ground, and looked up toward Kisame's face, "Thank you again."

"It's nothing I—"

"You kept him from hurting Sasuke. Thank you."

 _Maybe_ the smart side of his brain told him, _you should accept the gratitude and just enjoy holding the cute, smart, nice boy's hand, all right Hoshigaki? I mean Christ, don't fuck this up._ "Yeah" he said, clearing his throat, and ducking under an oak branch that didn't even graze Itachi's head, "of course. Like I said, I'm just glad I saw you."

There was another soft squeeze on his hand and a whispered "Thank you so much." before the both of them went silent again, listening to Sasuke prattling on about some kid in his class… and was he talking about amphibians?


End file.
